


Top Me

by charis2770



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Actually they're both nerds, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Fluff and Smut, He's actually VERY NERVOUS about it, He's totally NOT NERVOUS about it, Jean is a huge dork, Jean tops Marco for the first time, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Marco's finally tired of waiting, Porn with Feelings, Rimming, They've been talking about it for weeks, jeanmarco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-26
Updated: 2014-11-26
Packaged: 2018-02-27 01:42:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2674187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charis2770/pseuds/charis2770
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone on my Tumblr asked Marco if he'd ever let Jean top him sexually. He responded by saying he'd like him to. Jean wanted to really badly, was so turned on by the thought of it that he'd play with himself when he thought about it, but when it came to actually doing it, he kept getting cold feet. One day, Marco poked at him about it until he swore tonight was the night. Unless it rained. At which Marco wondered what that had to do with anything, and Jean replied that the roof might leak and that would ruin the mood.</p><p>Now it's tonight, and there's not a cloud in the sky...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Top Me

**Author's Note:**

> This story along with most of my other work in the SnK fandom goes hand-in-hand with the Asks, stories, and submissions found on my SnK-themed BDSM Ask blog on Tumblr, which can be found at bdsmfordummies-with-erwin-smith. This story is a continuation of the events found in my other Jeanmarco story, What He Needs. On the blog and in that story, Marco is the Top in the relationship, Jean his often-bratty and sometimes pushy bottom who Marco understands and indulges and adores ridiculously while Jean loves him right back, even if he's not always good at saying what he feels and putting his emotions and desires into words. Their relationship is not a 24/7 power exchange and their kink is pretty much reserved for bedroom games, but Marco is an extremely patient and loving Dominant and Jean loves everything about him, especially the freckles.

“Jean.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s not raining.”

“What do you think I am, blind? Of course it’s not raining! I’m standing in the doorway, I can see that. What does that have to do with anything? Besides, it might rain!”

Marco huffs out a sound that is part chuckle and part exasperated sigh.

“Jean, there’s not a cloud in the sky. Come to bed.”

As his lover slouches slowly back from the door frame, closing the door behind him, and edges towards the bed, Marco wonders if maybe it was too soon to offer to let Jean top him in bed. He knows Jean wants to. Has seen the gleam of desire in his eye when they talk about it, knows Jean thinks about it and that he sometimes gets so aroused by the thought that his hands slide down inside his pants to touch himself, bring himself off to the thought of fucking Marco. He also knows that if he never made the offer, the day would eventually come when Jean would begin to chafe against the way things are with them. Though he’s a natural submissive in the bedroom, Jean’s basic personality is such that he’ll start to question his standing as a man, and Marco’s equal, as wrong as he’d be to worry about it. There are certain things about Jean which are inevitable. His messy hair, tawny, golden-brown eyes with their wicked glint, crooked smile, and his eternal small insecurity that he’s not man enough, not good enough. If you asked him, “Enough for what?” he’d shrug and evade and say something smart-assed, but that’s Jean for you. And Marco loves him, insecurities and tawny eyes and all. He smiles and holds his hand out. Jean takes it a little sullenly. Marco, never one to miss out on an opportunity, gives a sudden sharp tug and rolls, yanking Jean onto the bed with him and ending with himself on top, crowding his nervous boyfriend against the mattress.

“What the fuck?” he complains, even as those honey-colored eyes darken.

“I want you,” says Marco softly, sincerely, with a little roll of his hips against Jean that proves this is patently true.

“Well,” says Jean, surrendering with obvious relief to what he thinks is Marco taking control, “it looks like you have me.”

“Jean…I want you to have _me_ ,” whispers Marco against his lover’s lips. Jean shivers at the sensation, but his gaze slides away uncomfortably.

“I’m not ready. Just…you fuck me tonight, okay?”

“Who was it making big threats earlier?” teases Marco gently. Jean’s cheeks flush. His fair, creamy skin has always betrayed strong emotion, something he hates.

“Marrrco,” he whines, squirming a little.

“Ohh no,” laughs Marco softly, “you’re not going to brat your way into a spanking to get out of this. You’re fucking me tonight, and that’s final.”

Jean shoves at him, and it’s a pretty sincere shove, so Marco lets him up. Jean heaves himself upright to sit on the edge of the bed and runs his fingers through his ridiculous hair so that it stands out in all directions.

“Yeah, that’s gonna make me really feel like I’m in control of things,” he mutters angrily. Marco sits up and leans against him.

“Hey,” he says softly. “Babe…talk to me. You want this. I know you do. Partners talk to each other. I can’t know what to do or say if I don’t know what’s wrong!”

“I don’t know,” cries Jean in frustration, yanking on his own hair and growling in disgust. “When I think about doing it…doing to you what you do to me…it gets me really hot! But then when it comes down to really thinking about actually doing it, all of a sudden I’m coming up with a million excuses why we should wait a little longer!”

“Jean…” says Marco a little hesitantly, because if there’s anything else about Jean that’s sure as sunset, it’s that he’d rather die than admit to being insecure. But frankly, Marco’s kind of getting tired of the excuses. He’s not lying when he says he wants to know what it feels like. He’s comfortable being the Dominant partner in the relationship. Loves it, even. But he’s not hung up on it, and he’s happy to admit he’s curious about some of the ways things feel from Jean’s usual point of view. Having his boyfriend’ finger up his ass and describing to him what the prostate gland feels like and the moment when Jean had found it had been _amazing_ and he’d like to experience more. A lot more. “you’re not going to like this, but I think you better cut the bullshit and listen to me, okay?”

“What,” grouses Jean in a sulky voice.

“Jean…”

“I’m listening! Okay!”

“I can almost guarantee it’s one of a couple of things, and probably a combination of both, you just don’t want to admit either one.”

“Fine. Tell me what I’m thinking, if you know me better than I do,” snaps Jean, who typically attacks when his insecurities go on proximity alert.

“Sometimes I do,” says Marco gently but inexorably, bumping Jean’s shoulder with his own and refusing to be provoked. “You’re worried I’ll hate it, that you’ll hurt me…and that you won’t be as good a lover as I am.”

“Oh, so what, now you’re God’s gift to gay?” says Jean, beginning to be furious. Marco just laughs and grabs him, tugging him close and kissing him hard and deep and messy. Jean struggles for a minute but then relaxes into it, kissing him back.

“I’m gonna have to remember the God’s gift to gay one,” he says, still fizzing a little, when he break the kiss. “And no. But you don’t have anyone else to compare me to, so I’m your only standard for gay sex skills, and you’re definitely not complaining. I bet Mike’s about a hundred times better at it than I am, but you better not be going to try and find out!”

“Don’t worry,” says Jean, relenting because he can’t stay mad at Marco for more than a few seconds at a time, “I’ve got God’s gift to gay. Okay.” He sighs heavily and his shoulders slump in defeat. “You’re right, I guess. About all those things. It’s sure enough to give a guy stage fright, which adds another one to the list. What if I can’t get it up?”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not gonna be a problem. You’re an under-twenty-year-old guy who has a dick. You can get it up.”

“Okay yeah. That’s not actually one of the ones I think about,” admits Jean.

“Good. So let’s look at these, okay? We’ve got to talk about them so they’re not in your way anymore. You’re worried I’ll hate it. Well, I’ll be with you, so there’s no way I’ll flat out hate that, because I love being with you. BUT!” He holds up a finger to halt Jean’s protest and continues. “But if I decide I’m not wired to enjoy bottoming, then I promise to tell you right away, and we’ll stop. I wouldn’t want you to do something for me that I asked for even if you hated it, so you better give me the same courtesy. But that’ll be because I’m just wired that way, not through any fault of yours!”

“O-okay. That um. That sounds reasonable,” says Jean, musing. 

“Jean…I hurt you the first time we made love, right?”

“Marco no…you didn’t…I mean…”

“Uh huh. Stop being a dork. It _did_ hurt at first.”

“Okay yeah. But…but just for a minute. And you made it…not hurt…really fast.”

“So why is that bad if it happens the same way this time?”

“….”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. I’ll say so when it hurts. We can slow down, stop and try a different way…it just takes a little patience to get through that part, Jean. I know you can be pretty impatient about some things, but I’d bet my life this isn’t one of them. Okay?”

“O-okay,” mumbles Jean. Marco smiles and reaches for his hand, which Jean clutches a little tighter than is comfortable, but that’s okay. “B…but what if I suck at it, Marco? What if I can’t make it good for you?”

“Babe. I already know you’re a good lover. Being a good lover isn’t really so much about the…inserting peg A into slot B part, y’know? I mean, we’re guys. Little friction on our dicks is all it takes for the end game, yeah? It’s what leads up to it that makes you a good lover, and I know you’re good at that. Because you know where to kiss and touch and lick me already…the places that make me shiver. You know my body and how to turn me on. So much. Jean…this isn’t on you!”

“What does that mean, it isn’t on me? Of course it’s on me,” protests Jean. Marco rolls his eyes.

“What am I, a slab of meat? I’m just gonna lie there and you’re gonna do everything? I don’t think so. Sex is two people. Well, except when it’s more I guess…but it’s kind of a team effort, dumbass.”

Jean’s cheeks and ears are very pink by now, and Marco tugs gently to make him look up. When Jean does, his eyes shifty and a little vulnerable, the tip of his tongue darting out to wet his lip, Marco leans in to kiss him. He can’t help it. He’d probably just kiss Jean all the time if he could. To comfort him, reassure him. To remind himself that they’re both here, and together, and alive. To shut him the hell up. To excite him, or both of them, to get him to make that little sound in the back of his throat that Marco loves so much….yeah, that’s the one. It’s not quite a whimper or a moan, it’s not a word or a growl, but it’s almost all of those things at once too, and it never fails to go straight to Marco’s guts. He deepens the kiss, their tongues tangling now, and he sucks Jean’s bottom lip into his mouth and nips at it softly. Now Jean does moan into the kiss, and his hands come up to slide into Marco’s hair, nails gently scratching his scalp.

“Jean,” he whispers, their lips still touching, “ohh…Jean, I want you so much. Please… _please_ Jean…love me. Have me. Take me. _Fuck_ me. Please?”

“Ngh,” says Jean. “Yeah. Okay. Yeah…”  
_____________________________________________________________________________________  
It’s chilly outside, and the wind whistles a bit in the trees where the leaves have all turned and more than half have given up the ghost of Summer and now scatter on that selfsame wind. It’s not cold enough for snow yet, but there’s frost on the ground almost every morning.

It’s far from cold inside their little cabin. There’s a cheery fire positively _roarin_ in the little fireplace. It has plenty of aromatic cedar in it along with the long-burning hard hickory and oak logs that they both like. Marco had finally drawn the line after Jean’s sixth armload of firewood.

“Jean. The fire’s big enough.”

“I don’t want to run out!”

“We’re not going to run out until next Tuesday! Stop.”

“Fine,” Jean had grumbled, and moved on to his next step. There are apparently a lot of them. He’s been thinking about this a lot, and it has to be perfect. All of the bedding off their bed _and_ all the extra blankets and pillows out of the cedar chest at its foot _and_ their duty bedrolls are laid out on the floor in front of the fireplace. Jean wants the setting to be a little different from where they usually do things. The bed is where Marco makes love to him, or fucks him, or ties him to the sturdy slats and teases him, or spanks him when he’s bratty or one of them just wants that…or whatever. There are candles burning too. Every one they own. The cabin smells like cedar and sandalwood and cinnamon and honey and beeswax….fortunately all of the varying scents are actually pretty nice together.

“ _All_ the candles, Jean?”

“You…you look awesome in candlelight,” Jean had muttered, embarrassed but determined, so Marco had helped him light them all. 

The little glass jar of extremely slippery salve they use as lubricant is sitting near the fire on a brick Jean has carefully heated in the fire itself.

“You know you can just rub it between your fingers until it’s warm eno…”

“Well this way I won’t have to worry whether I do it long enough!”

“Yes, Jean.”

There’s a pitcher of water and two heavy horn cups, a towel and two washcloths, one of them wet and the other not, a bowl of fruit and a plate of cheese on the end table by the sofa, directly above the little (well, not so little) nest Jean has built. He’d tried to drag the first aid kit out of the necessary too, but Marco had told him not to.

“It’s not far away if we need it, but come on, Jean. Nothing you’re going to do to me is going to require first aid. That’s like…planning for a disaster in bed isn’t very romantic.”

“Fine, but if we need it and don’t have it, you’re never hearing the end of it.”

“Babe. We can hold out against a siege in here right now.”

Jean’s shoulders hunch and Marco feels like a jerk. He goes to his boyfriend and puts his arms around him.

“Jean, I’m sorry. I’m a jerk. This is all amazing. I don’t…I don’t need all this to feel wanted, or to want to be with you. But it’s…I love it.”

“Okay,” says Jean, nibbling on a rough edge of his thumbnail and looking around critically to be sure he hasn’t forgotten anything. Marco hopes not, because he’d like for this to happen before the sun comes up and they have to be at roll call! Apparently unable to find anything wrong, or lacking in his “Seduction of Marco” setup, he goes over to the couch and flops down. Marco starts to go to him, but Jean holds up his hand to stop him.

“I’m…” he clears his throat and starts again. “I’m in charge, right?”

“Yes,” says Marco, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning at how cute Jean is right now. He’s so twitchy he looks like he’d jump through the roof if anything startled him at the moment. He’s running the palms of his hands up and down his thighs over and over, something Marco’s almost sure he hasn’t realized he’s doing. Except then he does and shoves his hands self-consciously underneath his own legs.

“Okay. Okay…t-take off your clothes. I want to see you.”

“Yes, Jean,” says Marco softly. He feels a little self-conscious himself now as Jean watches him avidly while he slowly removes his clothing. He’s glad he’s not wearing his harness, because he’s sure embarrassment would make him clumsy and he’d manage to get all tangled up and trip over it trying to get out of it.

“Ohh.”

His head snaps up and he looks at Jean in surprise. Jean’s looking at him with those golden-brown eyes hot in the firelight, roving over his skin as he uncovers it. One hand is at his crotch, slowly rubbing the outline of his erection that Marco can clearly see outlined and pressing tight against his trousers. He’s frozen for a moment at the hungry look on Jean’s face, the naked appreciation, and he feels his face get hot.

“Oh Marco, you’re so gorgeous,” whispers Jean. “I really love your body, do you know that?”

“N-no,” Marco whispers back. He finishes taking his clothes off and takes a step towards Jean.

“Will you…will you t-turn around?” asks Jean, and Marco does, glad his skin conceals blushes better than Jean’s and that the light from the fire hides them even better. Since Jean can’t see his face this way, he’s braver, and lifts up on his toes a little because it makes his butt flex. “Wow,” sighs Jean appreciatively, “you’ve got a really nice ass.”

“Make you wanna do dirty things to it?” He peeks over his shoulder with a coy wink and Jean is looking him up and down like he’s something nice to eat. Jean’s favorite thing, even. 

“Marco…” He stands up and holds out his hand, fingers beckoning a little, and Marco stops teasing and goes to him. Takes the proffered hand and they sink to their knees in the nest Jean’s made out of every article of bedding they own, mouths locked together.

*****

 _”Oh god,”_ he thinks, as his hands rove freely over warm, freckled skin, _”Marco’s a really good kisser. Am I a good kisser? He sure moans a lot. That’s good, right? Man, this is awesome. I never thought he’d let me. Let me. Let m…okay brain, get in gear. Let. Me. F…..Jesus. Fuck. Him. Don’t screw it up, Kirschtein. Get your head in the game. You can do this. Marco does it all the time. Ngh. All the time. God, it’s so good. Makes me crazy. Way he feels. His cock’s so big. Ohhh. No. No, stop it. That’s not what you’re thinking about. But wait. My dick’s not as big as Marco’s. What if he’s disappointed? I mean, it’s ALMOST as big as his. Y-yeah. It’s okay. He says he likes it. When he sucks onnnn…okay! Wrong path again. God. He’s hard. Feel his dick poking me right there. Ahh, it’s so soft in my hand. The muscles in his chest are tight. Oh hey, his nipple’s hard too. That’s good, right. Man, I love that sound he makes when I touch his cock. Way he rocks his hips into my hand. He’s really wet too. For me. Hey yeah, for me! Maybe this is gonna be okay. I can do it. I can. We…we love each other. He loves me. Even though I’m an asshole. So it’ll be okay. Yeah….”_

Jean breaks the kiss and backs off a little, panting, wiping his kiss-swollen lips with the back of his hand. Marco’s busy hands undo the buttons of his shirt and he lets him, allowing his own hands to softly stroke trails along the parts of Marco’s skin he likes best. Which is pretty much all of him. He’ll never stop getting the biggest charge in the world that Marco has freckles almost everywhere. On his shoulders and back, and down his arms. On his belly and his legs, a few on the backs of his hands and tops of his feet. Jean had tried counting them one night, but Marco had gotten bored and Jean had lost count too many times and it had dissolved into a wrestling match which had dissolved into sweaty sex. Which was just fine. It’s a lot of freckles. He doesn’t, interestingly enough, have any on his cock. Which is velvety soft and nicely thick and uncut, the head pushing out of his foreskin and shining a little in the firelight, wet with Marco’s desire for him. The callused tips of his fingers trace Marco’s hipbones and Marco hums appreciatively, attacking the waistband of Jean’s pants. When they’re unfastened and pushed down his own skinny hips, Marco pushes a little and they both topple to the floor amongst clouds of pillows and folded blankets. It’s nice and soft, and warm from the fire, and Jean thinks to himself that maybe they should just leave it here. Make love or fuck like bunnies in front of the fire for the whole rest of the Fall and Winter. 

And then they’re both naked and it feels so good. He tries not to let himself think too hard, and just do the things he always does that Marco likes. To just think about how happy he is that they got a second chance, and how this moment is better than he’d ever thought he’d feel. He leans down and licks along the ridge of muscle above Marco’s hip. God, he’s ripped. Well, they all are. You can’t use the Maneuver Gear almost every day of your life and not have the core of a god, but Marco’s body is especially wondrous to him because of the scars. He’d never have thought he’d get off on something like that. And it’s not like he wants to rub himself off on them or anything, but he just really loves to touch them. The texture is interesting. Like really well-tanned leather kind of, but bumpy and thick the way badly tanned rawhide is, which sounds awfully contradictory but is the best he can do. The skin doesn’t slide the same way over bone and muscle. It’s like when it gets ungodly cold and the creeks freeze, the ripples and whorls of the water hard and touchable. Except Marco’s skin isn’t cold. He says it feels different when Jean touches him there, all down his right side from his face and neck, over his shoulder and down his arm and his side, to his hip and partway down the outside of his right thigh. He can’t imagine the pain Marco must have felt, and it makes him quite desperate to think about it, but Marco says he doesn’t remember any of it, that he lost consciousness almost right away. Jean doesn’t know if it’s a lie or not, but he’s grateful for it anyway. 

Gently, he pushes Marco onto his back and rolls on top of him, settling between splayed thighs and kissing him. Marco sighs happily into his mouth and spreads his legs a little more as Jean reaches between them and gathers both their cocks in his hand, stroking very slowly up and down. He’s glad he long fingers, so he can do it, even if he can’t encircle them both entirely. Marco gives a little roll of his hips up into the caress.

“J-Jean,” he mumbles, breathing heavily, “you feel really good.”

“So do you. Marco?”

“Uhmm?” asks Marco, arching against him. Jean stops kissing and hides his face in the pillow beside Marco’s head, embarrassed suddenly by what he wants to ask, but he doesn’t think he’s got the guts to just do it.

“Can I…will you let me…can I…um…”

“Jean,” says Marco gently. “It’s okay. The answer’s probably going to be yes.”

Jean sucks in a shuddering breath and still can’t bring himself to look Marco in the eye when he spills it out all in a rush.

“CanIrimyou?”

Marco goes very still, and Jean wishes he could take it back. But one of the things he’s been doing since Marco made the huge offer to let him do this, is trying to learn everything he can about _how_ to do it. So he’d taken a page from Marco’s book and gone to ask Mike. He knows Eren and Armin are both gay, though he doesn’t think Yaeger’s fucking anyone, and is dead certain after the horse-tailed plug incident that Arlert wouldn’t have this particular conversation with him if he was the last guy on earth. Reiner and Bertholdt kind of usually seem to be off in their own little world. Ymir and Kirsta don’t have the right equipment, and though most people think the Commander’s gay, there’s just no way he’d ask about things like this. But he knows Mike’s been cool about answering Marco’s questions. So even though he’s super protective of Armin and…y’know, horse-tailed plug…Jean had gone to him, to ask about ways to make a guy ready to take another guy’s dick. Mike had been gracious about it, and not said a word about Jean teasing Armin, and invited him to sit down and even poured him a mug of the hard cider Mike’s famous for making.

“Well, you’ll know most of it, won’t you?” he’d asked easily, folding his hands behind his head and leaning back in his chair. “I mean, lots of somethin’ quite slippery and lots of using your fingers and patience.”

“Yeah, I know. Sometimes Marco takes ages and I think I’m gonna…um.” He’d closed his mouth on the rest of the sentence and taken a huge gulp of the crisp cider, letting the bite of it steal his breath so he’d stop talking.

“Aye, Armin’s the same way,” Mike had chuckled, then continued. “But there is one other, if you’ve the stomach for it.”

“Yeah, what?” Jean had said eagerly, leaning forwards in his chair.

“Rimming,” Mike had said simply. Now, Jean had heard the word before and pretended to know what the person was talking about, but he hadn’t been sure exactly what it meant, so he’d sat quite still, waiting, until Mike had raised his eyebrows in realization and chuffed another soft laugh. “Ah. Right then. It’s using your tongue there.”

“On someone’s _asshole_?” he’d asked, voice ramping up through several octaves quickly enough that it cracked at the end. Something it hadn’t done in years.

“Aye,” Mike had said, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. “Not everyone likes it, but some do. Some like it a lot. It helps soften it up. It really does. Do it before you put any lube on, aye? Unless what you use tastes nice and is safe for swallowin’ some of it. If you don’t know what I mean by softening….well look here, how serious do you want me to get here? You’re redder than a spanked backside right now, and I’d as soon not explain to Erwin why ye’ve died of apoplexy at my kitchen table.”

“No,” Jean had cried, sitting back up manfully and forcing himself to look into Mike’s eyes to show he wasn’t freaked out. Which was totally a lie, but he managed anyway.

“All right then. Reach back sometimes when you’re alone and touch your own asshole. Feel how tight and…well, stiff it is. Then take a bit of whatever it is you’re usin’ as lubrication on the tip of your finger, right, and touch yourself there again. Don’t put it inside, just rub it around for a minute or two. Then wipe off the slick and feel the difference. It’s not just slippery, it’s softer. You’ll see what I mean. You don’t have to do it. You can get on just fine without it, but you asked about other ways, and that’s one.”

Jean had done what Mike had suggested, and was startled by the difference. And…Mike had said it felt really good. So he’d thought about it a lot. Sometimes he was shocked and dismayed by the thought, but Mike had gone on to tell him what it felt like for the person being rimmed, and it had taken up residence in his brain and wouldn’t leave, so he resolved to try it. Just to see if he liked it, and if Marco did. Unless Marco thinks it’s gross. Oh no, he shouldn’t have said anything, he shouldn’t hav…

“Jean,” breathes Marco.

“Forget it,” mutters Jean, still keeping his face buried.

“No,” replies Marco firmly, but his voice is a little high-pitched and rough. “Jean…you don’t have to do that. Um. I mean. Unless yo…you want to.”

“I do if you do,” comes the muffled reply.

“I do if YOU do,” says Marco, and they both laugh a little.

“T-turn over,” says Jean, picking his head up and trying his best to look as manly and resolute as possible with his heart trying to hammer its way out of his chest. Marco does, and this time it’s he who buries his face in the pillow. Jean looks down him and something clicks in his throat when he swallows. God, he’s so beautiful. He crawls behind his recumbent boyfriend and nudges his legs apart. Marco cooperates easily, spreading his legs until Jean stops nudging and grunts in satisfaction. Then he lays down on his stomach between Marco’s legs and rests his hands on both of the rounded cheeks of his seriously hot backside. Marco shimmies a little and his butt quivers. Jean laughs. Then he holds his breath and gently spreads the cheeks apart, fingertips tracing tiny sweeping lines on a few freckles. Because he’s never done it and because he needs to familiarize himself with the location of his target (the idea of Marco’s asshole and target acquisition sort of cracks him the fuck up, but he only snickers a little since Marco looks over his shoulder and his eyes are a bit desperate), he just looks for a minute. Damn, Marco’s hole is so tiny. Like the inside of the tight curl of a baby’s fist, when they’re tiny and so fragile but have that surprising and amazing ability to grip things so tightly you almost can’t make them let go. Whorled and puckered and very small. His mouth goes dry at the thought of trying to fit his dick inside that. How can it even be possible? It’s crazy! He huffs out a breath and Marco shivers when it gusts over his hole, so Jean does it again, breathing in and out strongly over that tiny secret place. It flinches and winks at him and he gasps a little. His fingers curl around Marco’s cheeks and into the crevice between, and the tip of one brushes Marco’s anus softly. He gasps, and Jean likes the way it sounds. Cautiously, slowly he leans down. They’d both showered together earlier tonight, so he knows Marco’s clean. He can only smell spicy soap and the undefinable smell that is Marco. Gingerly, he leans down even more and touches the tip of his tongue to his boyfriend’s asshole. Marco cries out in shock, and flinches all over. Jean pulls back abruptly.

“What?” he cries anxiously. “What’s wrong?”

“Nuh-nothing,” says Marco hurriedly, shivering, and then Jean notices the gooseflesh rippling across Marco’s warm golden skin. “D-don’t stop.”

Jean does it again, but makes his tongue go in a tiny circle before he backs off again, considering. There’s no bad taste. A little sour, like a fruit that isn’t ripe yet, and a little musky in the same way that semen tastes, but it’s not weird or bad. And the way it makes Marco writhe against the blankets is awesome. He does it again, flicking his tongue back and forth a few times, and Marco moans his name hungrily. Mike was right. This was a great fucking idea. He gives himself up to the task, licking and tickling and stabbing the tiny hole with his tongue. Circling and laving and stabbing. Licking deeply enough that the tip of his tongue opens Marco up just a little, or flickering his tongue as soft as a sigh over the tiny puckers around the hole, he bends his whole will to his work. It’s not until Marco’s nearly anguished cries break through his intense concentration that he stops.

“Jean!”

“What…what’s wrong? What’d I do? God, Marco, I’m sorry,” he exclaims. Marco is shaking all over.

“No…nothing,” pants Marco. “I’m…God, Jean, I’m gonna come if you don’t stop doing that!”

“Ohh,” says Jean, eyes widening in understanding. Softly, he strokes a fingertip in a circle around Marco’s entrance. Wow. Mike had been right again. The flesh there is so soft, giving easily as he presses ever so slightly, almost as though Marco’s body would suck Jean’s finger inside. “That good, huh baby?”

“Oh my God,” groans Marco fervently. “I’m doing that to you, first chance I get. You’re gonna die!”

“I hope not,” says Jean, grinning at him. “I might want to do this again sometime. Marco?”

“Hm?”

“D’you mind turning back over? I wanna be able to see your face…for the rest?”

Marco flops back over onto his back and smiles up at Jean. His legs are splayed wide around Jean’s shoulders, and his thick erection is just right there, in front of his eyes, positively _weeping_ pre-come, and dusky at the tip. Jean cranes his neck a little and sucks it into his mouth for a minute, slurping on it like maple candy while Marco laughs and moans and thumps him on the back with his heel, groaning that he’s got to stop. He does, finally, laughing at Marco’s pained whimpers, and reaches for the little jar of lube. He goes suddenly quite serious. This is it. This is where it starts to get real. Towards the point of no return when he will be actually ready to fuck Marco. Can he ever be? Is that possible?

He swirls his fingertip through the warmed, creamy substance in the little jar. He doesn’t know what’s in it. Some kinds of herbal things, because it smells of green things and the forest a little. It’s really silky. Gently and slowly, he touches his fingertip to Marco’s softened asshole. Marco moans a little and lifts his hips.

“Jean, c’mon,” he says pleadingly. “You’ve done this part before! You know I like it! I’m going crazy here!”

“Y-yeah?” says Jean, mock-serious. “Well maybe I wanna make you crazy. In return for all the times you made me crazy…”

“Gah,” complains Marco, writhing and clenching his hands in the blankets. But even though he’s said so, making Marco crazy isn’t really what Jean’s after. And to be honest, in worrying about….well, everything, he’d kind of forgotten that they’ve done the fingering thing before and that Marco had, in fact liked it. A lot. Had spent quite a lot of time rather breathlessly explaining to Jean how to find his prostate and then how to rub and press against it to stimulate it. He already knows how to do this part! With a wicked little grin because Marco’s obviously expecting more teasing, he slowly but firmly slides his finger inside his frustrated boyfriend up to his knuckle. Marco bucks a little and shouts Jean’s name.

“God!” he cries, arching into the press of Jean’s finger, “Jean! Ohh that feels really good…”

Jean smiles shyly into Marco’s eyes and slowly withdraws most of the way. This time when he presses back in, he curls his finger up towards Marco’s belly a little, chewing on his lip and closing his eyes to concentrate. It’s as startling to him this time as it’d been the first time, the way it feels inside Marco’s body. Tight, nearly painfully tight at first, but then once he’s past the tightness, it’s just warm and wet and soft, like silky fur, and feels incredibly delicate. He grins in delight when he feels the lump underneath the softness and rubs the tip of his finger back and forth over it. Marco’s toes curl and his knees come up, spreading his legs wider and pressing his hips into Jean’s touch.

“Is that it, babe?” tease Jean gently, pressing and rubbing and stroking that one small, perfect spot while Marco whines and rolls his hips.

“Y-yeah. Oh…oh Jean…d-don’t stop. Tha…that feel so good. So…ngh…so good. Jean please…give me another one!”

“Are you…” Jean swallows, his mouth gone dry at Marco’s earnest plea. “Are you sure? Because I can just use one for a while…”

“Not if you don’t want me to kick you in the mouth in a minute,” growls Marco with obviously feigned ferocity. “I’m _ready_ Jean.”

Nodding nervously, Jean pulls his finger out and smears lube on his second finger, plus some more on the first one. Biting his lip and watching Marco’s face anxiously, he twirls the tips of both fingers around his entrance and presses just a little. He frowns and presses a little harder. Marco is patient for a few more seconds. Then a hand suddenly clasps Jean’s wrist in an iron grip, Marco raises his hips a little and just…impales himself on Jean’s two fingers with a guttural moan. Jean lets out a cry of protest but can’t yank his hand back for fear of hurting Marco and then…then…the sensation of his boyfriend’s asshole clenched around his fingers registers and he gasps.

“Jean, Jean,” pants Marco, wriggling and pushing against him.

“That was cheating,” says Jean in as dignified a voice as he can manage. Which isn’t very, because his voice is kind of high and breathy and awed over what he’s doing and how it feels.

“Too bad,” grunts Marco, just writhing obscenely and then arching and crying out loudly when Jean curls his fingers just right.

“Okay?” asks Jean, his eyes tracking every minute shift in Marco’s facial expression. Marco’s eyes are just about rolled back into his skull and his toes are curling adorably into the thick pile of blankets as his feet paddle at the quilts like he’s trying to find purchase and he’s so hard it looks like it hurts, a shining strand of precome quivering from the tip to his muscled belly.

“Sp-spread your fingers apart a little,” he gasps through his teeth, nodding when Jean obeys him cautiously. “C’mon babe, more than that. I wanna be ready for you. Oh God, feels s-so good. Don’t stop.”

Jean presses the palm of his free hand against Marco’s hip, pinning him down a little and huffing out a surprised, soft laugh at how needy he’s acting. Slowly, he flexes his fingers and spreads them apart, a tiny bit at a time. Partly he’s being as careful as he can, but partly it’s just that Marco’s hole is so tight that he has to struggle at first to open his fingers. There’s no fucking way. That his dick. Is fitting. In there. But Marco moans and lets out little sexy whimpers when he does it and whispers to him that It feels good. God, it’s so different from this side of things! It’s terrifying, but it’s exhilarating too. That he’s making Marco fall apart that way on his gingers. And he tries to remind himself that he likes it too, when Marco does this to him. So he flexes his fingers again and then pulls them out slowly, then just as slowly presses them back in, curling the tips a little as he does so, and when this meets with definite approval, he does it again. So slowly at first that Marco starts to growl and whine at him to go faster, do it harder…and then faster…and yet still faster, until finally he’s got his lover moaning as loudly as any little rentboy whore you’d ever meet and it’s filthy and so hot Jean thinks his dick might just explode. Finally, after Marco is nearly _sobbing_ with need, he’s actually doing it, finger fucking him good and proper and Marco loves it and Jean sure can’t say he hates it one bit and it’s just awesome and he can tell that Marco’s body really has loosened up so that he can scissor his fingers apart quite a lot. Holding his breath for so long that he actually gasps when he remembers to stop doing it, he adds more slippery stuff and gently works a third finger in alongside the first two and Goddamn if Marco doesn’t take it easy.

“Wow,” he whispers.

“Ungh,” gasps Marco, reaching for coherent and falling a little short on the first try, then sorting himself out a little when Jean stops moving his hand. “It’s….fuck…it’s cause my body’s….ahh….ready for it. You…you’re doing great, babe. Ohh…can you…will you….keep doing that? Just a couple more minutes? I’m…I think I’m almost ready. Oh…okay?”

Jean nods fervently and presses his fingers inside, which makes his boyfriend throw his head back and keen softly between his teeth while he hisses, “yes, yes, yes,” over and over again. It’s fascinating, watching Marco come unraveled for him. Because of what he’s doing. It’s incredible, the way he feels inside, how tight and warm and soft his body is. He thinks Marco’s face is the most gorgeous thing he’s ever seen. Can’t get enough of the way his warm, tanned skin looks in the firelight, burnished, glowing bronze, like some ancient pagan godling. The scars are even more beautiful and mysterious to Jean in the flickering glow. A fine sheen of sweat shines on his skin, and Jean leans down and licks it off his chest, his tongue teasing the peak of Marco’s nipple, then nibbles gently with his teeth, echoing Marco’s moan with one of his own. This is amazing. This is awesome. This is…

“J-Jean…fuck me. I’m ready. P-please fuck me,” whispers Marco, his hands letting go their convulsive grip on the bedding to tug eagerly at Jean’s arms, his dark eyes wild and urgent. Jean freezes as though Marco has hit him between the eyes with a brick.

This is terrifying. This is impossible! But it’s why they’re _doing_ this in the first place. He’s not really paying attention to the fact that he’s still completely frozen exactly as he was when Marco had uttered those terrifying words some indeterminate number of seconds or possibly minutes ago until a truly pained cry catches his attention. Startled, he looks up at Marco’s face. His expression is agonized, a rictus of pained desperation, and Jean starts to panic when he suddenly realizes that at the moment when he’d frozen, he’d been in the process of curling his fingertips against Marco’s sweet spot and he’s now been _pressing_ on it for however long time’s been stopped for him…and obviously hasn’t been for Marco.

“Please, please,” he chants, gasping and trembling, “I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come, please stop, Jean!”

“Oh my God,” cries Jean, chagrined, uncurling his fingers and gently pulling them out, wiping them on the washcloth above his head on the seat of the couch. “Marco, I’m so sorry!”

“It’s okay, I’m fine now, I’m just…oh man….I really thought I was gonna just explode all over your hand.”

“I’m a dumbass,” mutters Jean, one arm around Marco, and buries his face in the pillow again. 

“No you’re not,” says Marco gently, pulling him closer so that they’re lying chest to chest. One of Marco’s legs glides around his waist and their cocks are suddenly pressed together, sliding along each other’s length, getting slick with the evidence of their mutual arousal. Jean’s toes curl, and he rocks against Marco, reaching between them again.

“S-stop,” whimpers Marco, grabbing his wrist. “Not like that. Jean…please. I want this. I want to feel you inside. I want to know what it’s like.”

“Okay,” whispers Jean. Trembling a little, he shifts a little so his hips are between Marco’s legs and reaches between them, taking his cock in his hand. Marco puts his leg around Jean’s waist and raises his other knee, lifting his hips a little, being helpful as always. Jean sucks in his breath when he feels the head of his cock nestle against the soft, wet pucker of Marco’s asshole. He falters and goes very still, unable to let his breath out or bring himself to move.

“Babe,” says Marco, love and humor in his voice, “you need to breathe.” Jean lets his breath out in an explosive gasp. “And you need to move.”

Panting, Jean pushes his hips forward a little. God, Marco’s so tight. Even with the work he’s done to make him ready, it’s still astonishing how tight his hole feels against the head of Jean’s cock.

“Push a little,” encourages Marco.

“I am pushing,” mutters Jean through tightly gritted teeth.

“Maybe a little more, then,” suggests his boyfriend with a perfectly straight face. Jean gives Marco an aggrieved look and cautiously puts a little more of his weight into his hips. Nothing happens. Marco’s just too tight. There’s no way. He can’t get his cock in there without just ramming it in and he can’t do that. Won’t do that. 

“I can’t,” he whispers. “Marco, I can’t. I don’t want to hurt you. You’re…you’re too tight. It won’t…it won’t fiiiAAAHH!”

His last word turns abruptly into a shout of alarm as he’s suddenly flipped onto his back and finds himself looking up into the bemused, affectionate and determined eyes of his boyfriend, who is now straddling his hips. 

“It will,” says Marco firmly. “And I’m going to prove it to you.”

With that, he reaches behind himself and curls his fingers around Jean’s cock, which totally betrays his sense of honor and duty towards Marco’s well-being by jerking happily in his fist, and presses it firmly against his own asshole. As Jean babbles and curses and pushes pointlessly at Marco with his hands, He bites his lip and closes his eyes, ignoring Jean in favor of concentrating, and slowly begins to sink down onto Jean’s dick. 

“Hahh!” All the air rushes from Jean’s lungs at the sensation of Marco’s snug hole parting around the head of his cock. His eyes dart back and forth between the place where Marco kneels over him and Marco’s face. He’s currently wearing a look of intense concentration, biting his lip hard. The flesh looks red and a little raw where his teeth worry at it, and his dark brows draw together in a frown.

“Aah,” he gasps, letting out a pained, small whine as the head of Jean’s cock breaches his hole. Jean cries out, fingers digging into Marco’s hips hard enough to bruise. 

“Marco,” he whimpers, fear for his lover’s safety overriding the unbelievably amazing sensations happening to the head of his dick right now. 

“It’s okay,” says Marco breathlessly. “I just…have to go slow. You okay?”

Jean nods once and pries his fingers out of Marco’s flesh where he’s been gripping tightly enough to leave dents and runs his fingers lightly up and down his boyfriend’s thighs gently. He’s concentrating as hard as he can on not bucking up into the tightness because it’s amazing. It’s incredible. He’s probably going to die pretty soon. Marco gives a tiny nod and does a little hip shimmy that makes Jean’s toes curl. He whines softly, shaking against the urge to move. 

“It’s good,” whispers Marco. “It…it doesn’t hurt anymore. I’m gonna try a little more, okay?”

“I’ll give you anything you want if you do,” whimpers Jean through his teeth. Marco laughs and lowers himself down a little more, then a little more. Jean moans fervently and lets go of Marco’s thighs to dig his hands into the bedding as hard as he can. Then suddenly Marco just _sinks_ all the way down and he’s sitting on Jean’s skinny hips and grinning down at him with this cat-that-ate-the-cream smile on his ridiculous, freckled face.  
Jean stares up at him, wide-eyed, lips parted, unable to speak or even think in words beyond the endless stream of, “ohGodohGodohGod,” that’s currently running through his head over and over because it’s the most unbelievable feeling, being inside Marco. 

“Jean,” whispers Marco.

“Oh God,” replies Jean. “M-Marco…are you okay?”

“Yeah,” sighs Marco. “Yeah it’s…it’s good.”

“It doesn’t hurt? You’re not…you’re not bleeding or anything are you?”

“Jean, I’m fine. You…you feel…” He pauses and rocks a little. Jean whimpers, and Marco gasps. “You feel good. Inside me. God, babe…you’re _inside_ me. S-so deep.” He bites his lip again, making Jean long to stop him and do it for him, and raises up on his knees a little. They both suck in their breaths simultaneously and stare at each other in wonder.

“Can I move?” breathes Jean anxiously, because he’s afraid he’s going to just die right here and now if he has to hold still anymore, he really does.

“Y-yeah,” answers Marco. “Yeah I think ssaAHH!”

His reply is lost in a strangled shout as Jean bucks his hips up and drives his cock back deep inside the unbelievably perfect, tight warmth of Marco’s hole. Jean freezes, horrified.

“Marco, oh my God, I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, I won’t do it again, we should stop, this is….shit, shit! Are you okay?”

“Jean?”

“Yeah?”

“Would you do something for me please?”

“Yeah, of course, anything, you know th…”

“Shut up and do that again.”

Well then. Jean shuts his mouth and rocks his hips back, then snaps them up again, burying himself as deeply up Marco’s ass as he can go. They both shout this time. Oh God, Jean thinks wildly, doing it again while Marco holds himself up on his knees above him, moaning softly and crying out when Jean’s thrusts fill him. This is incredible. It feels better than Marco’s hands or his mouth ever have, and those are pretty damn amazing. It’s just about as good as when Marco fucks him like this, just in a different way. He’s doing it. He’s actually doing it, fucking Marco…well, mostly. 

His eyes take on a mischievous gleam and he wraps his hands gently around Marco’s hips, thumbs stroking over some of his favorite freckles, and he flips them. Marco lets out a startled exclamation and Jean laughs delightedly when he manages to pull it off without slipping out of his incredibly tight ass. Settling against Marco’s body and lifting one of his knees so it’s cradled against his chest, Jean grins wickedly down at him.

“You’re sure it doesn’t hurt?” he asks, one more time just to be sure.

“Jean, yes, I’m sure,” says Marco, rolling his eyes a little.

“Good,” says Jean, and snaps his hips forward hard.

“Oh God,” cries Marco, fingers scrabbling for Jean’s forearms and digging in. “Don’t stop!”

Then he’s doing it, fucking into Marco hard, and they’re both whimpering and gasping and Marco’s toes curl when Jean angles his hips a certain way so he does it again, and again, and it feels like the best thing Jean’s ever dreamed of, better even than he’d imagined it would when he’d thought of it before and gotten so hard from the imagining that he’d had to dig his hands inside his pants and touch himself, jacking off like a kid to the thought of fucking Marco. This is better. The way Marco’s tight hole quivers and grips at him when he hits that perfect spot inside, and the little rasp in Marco’s voice when he cries out for Jean. The way his hooded eyes glitter in the firelight and his cheeks flush and his teeth worry at his lip between gasps and cries and soft whimpers….God, he’s coming unraveled for Jean and it’s _beautiful_. It’s perfect. He feels like he could do this forever, except, he realizes suddenly, he’s not going to be able too because it feels too good, too perfect. The friction of Marco’s asshole gripping his cock, the soft, velvety warmth inside, the sounds Marco’s making…

“M-Marco,” he gasps.

Marco lets go of one of Jean’s arms and his hand wraps around his own cock, practically _flying_ as he strokes himself fast and hard, crying Jean’s name, practically sobbing for him.

“Jean…Jean please…I’m go…gonna come…”

Just the words, that it’s him doing this to Marco, push him over the edge. Jean shouts Marco’s name as his balls draw tight and his own pleasure takes him, his toes curling and his eyes gone blind but for bright white sparks at the sudden flutter and hard _clench_ of Marco’s hole around his cock. Marco howls and throws his arms around Jean, burying his face in his chest, his mouth open as his breath sobs and he shakes as his spend spills over his hand and their bellies. Jean shudders one last time and then collapses on top of Marco like he’s been shot. Once Marco’s finished gasping and quivering, he starts to snicker, then to laugh. 

“Don’t laugh at me,” groans Jean, wondering if he has the energy left to move enough to smack him.

“I’m not laughing at you,” says Marco, a little muffled. “I’m laughing because when you collapsed like that I had this split second of wondering if I’d actually killed you.”

“Yeah. Your asshole’s that dangerous,” agrees Jean, suddenly finding it a little funny too. He chuckles and rolls off Marco with a groan. Marco whines softly, and Jean turns on his side and wraps his arms around his lover. “You okay?”

“Yeah. I’m good. Really good. That was…Jean, you were amazing. I’m. Uh. A little sore.”

“Sorry.”

“You don’t look that sorry.”

“You don’t look that unhappy about being a little sore.”

“Point,” agrees Marco, snuggling close, which Jean finds a lot cuter from this side of things. Which suddenly makes him feel a lot less girly for the times he likes Marco to cuddle him a little after sex somehow. 

“You really didn’t hate it?” he asks shyly, carding his fingers through Marco’s hair and feeling strangely protective and sort of understanding part of what it is Marco likes about being a Top, a little bit.

“I really didn’t. I actually didn’t expect to enjoy it as much as I did. If you…if you want to do it again sometimes, I think that would be pretty cool.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really. I’ve wondered for a while, what it felt like for you…because it looked like it felt pretty great…”

“It does. And yeah…yeah, I liked it too, and I would like to do it again. I promise not to be such a dork about it next time. Since I didn’t like, break you or anything. But Marco…it’s not going to…going to change the way things are, is it? Because I’m happy with that. With….everything.”

“Jean,” says Marco solemnly, “I swear to you that getting your dick up my ass is not going to stop me from spanking yours.”

This time Jean finds the energy to move enough to smack him.

He’s just sorry about it later. A little.


End file.
